


i'm the bad guy, duh

by meaninglessrambles



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Mentions of Death, Mentions of Violence, Vulgar Language, mentions of sexual abuse, the unsub storyline we all deserved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:28:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26328679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meaninglessrambles/pseuds/meaninglessrambles
Summary: elle learns what harvey dent said was true: you either die a hero, or you live long enough to see yourself become the villain.
Kudos: 28





	i'm the bad guy, duh

_Did you stop checking for monsters_  
_in your closet when you started_  
_letting them sleep in your bed?_

\- Knicholas Kennedy

The room was cold and sterile — florescent lights reflect off of cheap, metal furniture that was designed to be uncomfortable, concrete walls painted a dull shade of gray are left bare. Elle Greenaway had learned years ago that once you stepped foot into one interrogation room, you'd seen them all. Now, though, she knew the view _isn't_ changed based on what side of the law you're on. 

She feigns a yawn — interrogations, after all, are nothing but a game, two sides fighting for dominance — and she wanted (needed) to come across as unbothered physically as she felt emotionally. See, she wasn't your everyday bumbling criminal. Elle could play the game just as well, or even better, than those who she just knew were observing her.

 _Keep them waiting_ , Hotch would say, _we go in there on our terms_.

She may have been the only person in the room, but she wasn't alone.

Dark hues stared straight ahead, focused on the two-way mirror separating the tiny prison she was confined in from the crowded area the team was huddled in. She leaned back, chocolate-colored locks brushing against leather clad shoulders. Pretty, glossed (the gloss was new, sparkly and smelled like vanilla) lips pulled into a serene smile. She could do this all day long.

But she didn't have to. 

There wasn't a clock in the room, but Elle estimated it only took fifteen minutes for Hotch and Reid to come walking through the door, arms full of files. Interesting team of interrogators, she thought. Hotch made sense, she supposed. He was the unit's chief; he often took lead in interviews. Reid was a surprise, though. She had expected Morgan. They were closer, they'd gone on vacation together. Maybe they questioned Derek's ability to be impartial, or maybe it was a mind game — a choice made to throw her off her game. They'd be disappointed, in that case. 

She took a moment to react to their entrance but when she did, she turned in order to give both men all of her attention. "Long time no see," she greeted them, but stayed seated. Elle spoke before either one of them could. It was a power move, but one neither Hotch or Reid reacted to.

"You're certainly not the twenty-four year old kid I remember anymore," she directed at Spencer, eyes conspicuously scanning over him before looking over at the older male. "If you wanted to have a little reunion, we could have arranged something a little less melodramatic... and maybe invited everyone else." She paused. "Like Morgan. God, he's fun. I miss him. Even JJ, she could join the party. Perhaps my replacement, Emily, too." There it is — the reaction Elle had been hoping for. It was slight, the furrowing of his brows and the downward twitch of his lips. But it didn't matter. She had won. "Or do you think she would be intimidated by the original?"

"We're not here to catch up, Elle," Hotch said, his attempt at taking control of the conversation. "It's about a case."

"Hm," Elle hummed, as if she understood. "Gotcha. A sex crime you need my expertise on?" She knew that wasn't the case. She wasn’t even involved in law enforcement anymore. In an officially capacity, anyways. And, besides, consultants weren't picked up outside of malls and brought back to police stations. She was a suspect but she wanted them to admit it.

Elle had wondered what the reaction was like when they finally put the pieces together. Were they surprised and impressed with themselves for _finally_ figuring it out? Or did they recognize that every clue, every piece of evidence left behind was purposely done to lead them to her? It was enough to implicate Elle, but not enough to arrest her. Not without a confession at least.

"We've got nine victims across four states and I think you know exactly what happened to them." With each word he spoke, Hotch dropped a file onto the table in front of her until his hands were empty and he was just staring at her. His jaw was set and shoulders tense. He was mad.

Big doe eyes looked back up at him and she shook her head. "I don't know what you're talking about." But she still took each file, scanning the information — as if she wasn't well aware of it all — before shrugging. "I thought you said there were _victims_. Joseph Belmont, Maryland," she pointed at the first file, "Arrested for molesting his niece." Her attention went to the third file. "Jeremy Neems, North Carolina. Serial rapist." She sat back and crossed her arms. "I know it's been a few years, but is this what the Bureau does now? Ignore real victims and focus on criminals?"

"Criminals? Not a single man was convicted of the charges pressed against them."

Elle rolled her eyes. "Because of bullshit technicalities. It says so in the files."

"Bullshit technicalities — like William Lee." They were the first words Spencer had spoken since he walked in the room and Elle stiffened.

"I don't really see the correlation here," she argued, struggling to keep her voice even. 

"You don't?" Spencer sounded surprised. "We knew he was our unsub, but because of the failed sting operation, he was let go. A clearly guilty sexual predator who you ended up shooting."

"In self-defense," the brunette argued. "So there's no similarities here. The justice system can be flawed, but this—" she waved her arm at the files splayed out before her, "isn't self defense. This is someone playing judge, jury and executioner." 

"But who cares, right? Pedophiles, rapists, woman beaters. There's no loss here." That statement came from Hotch and Elle almost laughed. Maybe it was hindsight, but she sure as fuck remembered him being more subtle.

"I suppose that depends on the person and their views on rehabilitation." She shrugged. "A life lost, regardless of what it consisted of, is still a loss."

"Come on," Hotch began, leaning forward on his elbows. "If anyone gets wanting to take justice into their own hands, it's you. It's us. You remember what it's like on this team. We see the worst of human depravity on a daily basis."

"Whether it's possible to understand the mindset or not is irrelevant. It's not your place or mine. That's not justice — that's not what we do. Justice happens in a courtroom." Even she almost believed the words she spoke. Hopefully they did too. "Anyways, do either of you have the time?"

Spencer pulled up the sleeve of his sweater. "Three thirty."

"Ah," Elle sighed. "I've actually got a massage appointment at four. If I head out now, I'll get there just in time." She looked from Spencer to Hotch. "Anything else, gentlemen?"

Hotch shook his head. "We'll follow up with you if we have any questions."

She stood. "You know, I meant what I said. If you want to have a reunion, it can be done outside of a police station. Maybe we can grab sushi sometime?"

Neither man answered and she shrugged. "Your loss."

* * *


End file.
